


To Show Her Love

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, First Time, Rough Foreplay, Virginity, safe word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5496710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teshrael Serani is a stone, removing herself from the rest of the Inquisition despite the terrible loneliness within. In a moment of weakness, she confesses her need to a certain Qunari mercenary, but believes it foolish. After overhearing some questionable things, however, she allows him to sweep her off her feet and into bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Show Her Love

**Author's Note:**

> Teshrael is an OC of my creation, a Companion to my Inquisitor. She is also mentioned in my "The Templar and The Mage" fic. The events of this are set along the same timeline as the other, after the Inquisition has been at Skyhold for several months.

                He knew she had kissed the Commander and had gotten her heart broken, but he kept the information to himself.

                Iron Bull told himself it was to preserve her pride, but truly he wondered if bringing up the elicit secret wouldn’t damage buried feelings. Teshrael was nothing if not composed, but he knew there was a fragile heart beating within her: he had seen the disappointment, the pain in her face even as she thought herself alone. When Cullen had wandered off and Teshrael had followed, he’d been curious about his companion’s intentions and he had managed to sneak through the flurry of snow just in time to witness a very steamy—and very surprising—kiss between the righteous commander and the solemn little elf. Even then, he’d felt a strange tug: an unfamiliar flame that burnt out shortly within his belly that pushed him to rush forward and pull Cullen off of her. His hands had tightened on his weapon, but before things had progressed further, the scout’s warning had rung out.

                When it was revealed that the stranger in the snow was none other than the presumed-dead Herald, Cullen had abandoned Teshrael in the snow. While everyone else was rushing to get a look at the half-dead Raeslinn, Iron Bull had hung back to keep an eye on another elf. Unlike the others, Teshrael had stayed frozen. When Cullen had lifted the Herald from the snow to return with her to camp, Iron Bull had seen her mask shatter. The barrage of emotions across her face had almost propelled him from hiding, but he was certain she would reject a shoulder to cry on. Instead, he had kept an eye on her as she ran out into the snow. He had followed her carefully, keeping a distance between them as she came to a frozen lake and collapsed on the shore, finally allowing herself to cry.

                When her shoulders were shaking from the force of her sobs, Iron Bull had gone to her. Surprise had registered in her teary mismatched eyes, but she had allowed him to take her in his arms and she had cried against his chest. Iron Bull knew her feelings for Cullen were nothing serious and he did not understand the tears, but he didn’t question or berate her. Instead, he pulled her tiny form into his lap and sat in the snow, rocking her slowly as she cried.

                When she had finally exhausted herself, Teshrael had leaned against his shoulder and quietly asked him how she could be so happy and so sad all at once. She revealed that she didn’t want Cullen—not really—but she wanted something or _someone._ Although she was relieved and ecstatic over her friend’s survival, she also felt as though Raeslinn’s reappearance sealed her fate of solitude.

                Iron Bull had listened silently, genuinely surprised by her concerns. Since coming to Haven, the red-haired elf had expressed little to no interest in companionship. She certainly lacked no suitors: even Krem would blush whenever she turned up in the inn at night. Heads would turn for the ethereal beauty that was Raeslinn and men would throw themselves forward to impress her, but facing her cool and polite rejection, they would—without fault—turn to another, wickedly alluring target. Bull had witnessed her relentlessly turn away suitors, from nervous recruits up to a cocky and confused Sera. If she craved connection, there was no lack of options.

                And yet, here she sat beside him, bemoaning her loneliness.

                He couldn’t claim that he did not feel the pull of her as well. There had been several nights when she had joined the Chargers for drinks that she had leaned close to him, just a bit too close, and the image of crushing her against a wall and burying himself between her scarred thighs had come to him. He was not bold about his feelings like the others, but he took unnecessary liberties: when she would get a bit too drunk to clearly remember the evening the next morning, he would guide her back to her room and allow his hand to wander a bit low on her back. There had been one morning when they had been accompanying Raeslinn on a mission that Bull had journeyed to the waterfall nearby to find it already occupied. Although he knew it was wrong to spy, he couldn’t resist sweeping his gaze over her naked body as she stood beneath the water, her chin tilted to the sky and her eyes closed.

                Oh fuck yes, Iron Bull wanted her. Distantly, he knew that if he made a move now—forced his mouth on hers or invited her back to _speak privately—_ that she would not resist him. Even as she spoke of missing a match, her eyes wandered to his and burned with a half-disguised longing. And hell, he probably would have let her lose herself in his bed if it hadn’t been for the slight tremble in her hands as she reached up to touch his face, the sudden flash of fear across her face.

                Someone had hurt her badly, had damaged her so that she was terrified of the companionship she so longed for. That knowledge hit him like a sledgehammer and without a word, he had cupped a much larger hand over her own and pushed it away, silently but firmly rejecting her.

                After bringing her back to camp, Teshrael again treated him as a stranger. When they arrived at Skyhold, she kept a wide berth of him; it was rare for Bull to see her between missions out and about. Although she would join the Chargers for drinks more frequently and stumble out too drunk to think less frequently, her attitude towards him returned to being cool and aloof. When he guarded her back on the battlefield, she never thanked him or acknowledged his assistance; when he would help her up the stairs to her quarters after a particularly rowdy night at the tavern or a rough trip to a healer, she never invited him inside. Although he had spent much of his life not much caring who turned him from their beds or even about pursuing anything more than a casual romp in the sheets, Iron Bull found himself frustrated by the cold front and confided as much to Krem.

                His second-in-command had listened quietly to his frustrations, a thoughtful look upon his face. When Bull had finished bemoaning his bad luck and insisting he should have fucked her that night after fleeing Haven, Krem had burst into laughter.

                “Chief! You’re falling for the little Wildling!”

                Bull had locked his arm around Krem’s neck, shouting at him to take back his insubordination even as Krem roared with laughter and made kissing sounds at him. The rest of the Chargers caught the commotion and joined Krem in his teasings until Iron Bull, frustrated and unsatisfied, released his right-hand man and shoved him away before storming from the tavern.

                This time, it was her who snuck up on him.

                “He’s right, you know.”

                Iron Bull let loose a string of explicitness and whirled around, pinning her by the wrists to the stone wall behind the building. Doing so lifted her off the ground, left her feet dangling useless several inches from purchase, but her eyes betrayed no fear. Teshrael met his gaze evenly, her brows drawing low and together as she frowned at him. “Why does this matter so much to you?”  
                “Because—!!” Iron Bull exploded, ready to let loose a list of reasons why he was insulted that he couldn’t even bag a lonely little wild elf, but the gentle push of her bosom to his chest gave him pause. He was suddenly hot, stiflingly hot, as he gazed into her expectant eyes. After several moments, Iron Bull released his hold and lowered her to the ground, turning his back to her.

                “Bull.” The word was accompanied by gentle fingers against his forearm and it was his undoing. Months of frustration and longing had him whirling to face her again, had his hands at her shoulders and securing her back to the wall. He all but had to kneel to crush his lips against hers but he kissed her with ferocity, so hard that her lips would be bruised and swollen the next day.

                Several seconds went by with Bull assaulting her mouth and Teshrael standing perfectly still and then a small hand came up to grip one of his horns, her eyes fluttering closed as she returned the kiss hungrily. Bull clawed at the buckles over her chest and pushed a large hand into her shirt, going beneath her breast band and squeezing the swell of flesh there. He swallowed her gasp and took the opportunity to force his tongue into her mouth, tasting and teasing and testing her. Teshrael responded readily and arched her back to allow him better access to her chest, whimpering as he brushed his thumb over a hardened nipple.

                “Bull,” she murmured between kisses, her breathing in short bursts.

                Iron Bull pulled back from her, one hand still pressing her to the wall and the other within her shirt. Her face was flushed and her eyes unfocused, her lips parted and swollen. Teshrael’s typical composed and solemn identity was shattered to reveal a woozy, desperate woman who very much appreciated his company. Despite the heat between them and the tightness of his pants, Bull’s gut clenched as he realized how vulnerable and how _young_ she looked in this moment.

                “How old are you?”

                Teshrael blinked and her eyes came into focus, one brow raising in confusion. She looked up to him, worrying the inside of her lip. “Why?”

                “Because you look like you just had your first bleeding and damned if I’m a cradle robber,” the reply was gruff and heavy, but Teshrael did not flinch at the unintentional insult. It was a topic she knew many wandered about, one that Raeslinn herself had attempted to breech until Teshrael simply told her she was ‘old enough’.

                Something told her that response would not satisfy Bull.

                “I turned twenty shortly after we came here,” Teshrael responded quietly. Bull’s face twisted and he actually took a step back from her, scowling.

                “Fuck,” he muttered.

                Teshrael stared up at him, the magnitude of their current situation slowly coming over her. She sighed softly and stepped away from the law, dropping her gaze from him to the ground. She was suddenly very aware of herself: of the now-gaping belts across her chest, of her youth, of the rumpled quality about her appearance. Darkening, she readjusted her top and cleared her throat, refusing to look at the Qunari. “I’m sorry.”

                “I’m nearly twice your age.” His tone suggested that it was a statement rather than an invitation for conversation. The implications were clear to her: this was too mismatched, too strange for him. Teshrael bit her lip and nodded, hoping that the hot tears welling beneath her lids would refrain from spilling until she was alone.

                “I understand,” she said quietly and pushed past him, intent on returning to her room, but Iron Bull reached out and wrapped a hand around her upper arm, pulling her body back to his. She looked to him, surprised, and he flashed a tooth grin. Her brows drew together and she studied his face, his touch sending small shivers down her spine. “Is this a problem, then?”

                “It’s a surprise but you’re old enough to make your own decisions.” Bull’s words reignited the fire inside her, sparked the pressure between her thighs to build again. “If we do this, though, I think it’s best to keep it between us. The Boss may be my friend, but I have a feeling this is gonna piss her off. If things continue, so be it, we’ll reach that road but it’s important we have time to reach that.”

                Teshrael’s blue-and-green gaze met his silver one. Without responding, she reached up and brushed a thumb over the leather of his eyepatch, frowning at the intricate design. Iron Bull waited for her patiently, sliding his hands to her hips and massaging slow circles into the flesh there. Finally, she nodded slowly and looped her arms around his neck, pulling herself up and his head down to kiss him.

                When they broke apart, no other words were needed. As soon as one of the guards passed on patrol, two figures slipped from the shadows behind the tavern and into the keep, towards one of the living corridors.

 

                Somehow, Teshrael had managed to secure herself a room in an otherwise empty hallway. Iron Bull suspected her race had much to do with it: although the people of the Inquisition generally met Raeslinn with awe and devotion, Teshrael had no pretty title inspiring them to approve of her. She was just an elf—and a particularly wild one at that—who fought beside their beloved Inquisitor. They owed her no kindness and met her with little, a fact Bull had observed on several occasions. Although he had seen her berated for her heritage, no one had ever laid a hand on her but he still knew it hurt her, witnessing such a hatred that came only because her ears were slanted.

                The solitude was welcome tonight.

                As they neared her room, Bull pulled her into his arms and lifted her from the floor, supporting her ass with one wide hand. Her legs wrapped around his middle, not quite long enough to meet each other at his back, but her thighs were like an iron grip around him. Their mouths met in a similar fury to before, hungry for the other’s touch, and it was all Iron Bull could do to fumble her door open. He kicked it closed behind them and brought her to the bed, pushing her back into the blankets as he crawled over her, breaking their kiss to trail small nibbles down the side of her neck. Teshrael moaned beneath him and arched her back, pressing herself against him desperately but Bull intended to savor the moment.

                For all he knew, this could be a one-time thing and the elf would return to being a stranger outside of this room. No, he had to enjoy his time with her—worship this body that had plagued him.

                “Bull,” she whined as he bit particularly hard into the joining of her neck and shoulder. It would surely leave a mark, but that thrilled him: he wanted others to know she had been _his,_ that he had claimed her body.

                “Hush.” It was a command and Teshrael immediately fell silent, save for her occasional gasps and groans. Bull unbuckled her shirt again and pulled the fur gathering from her shoulders, reaching to remove the top from her body. Underneath, her stomach was flat and her sides sloped inwards in an hourglass shape. Her breasts strained against her breast band, one slightly mottled from his earlier fondling. Iron Bull took in the sight of her for several moments and then grabbed the fabric across her chest in both hands, ripping it open. Teshrael cried out at the rip of fabric and again when he lowered his mouth to her chest, pulling one nipple in his mouth. He teased her with his tongue and teeth, switching to her other breast before trailing more kisses down the line of her stomach. She was panting and pleading beneath him as he began to unbuckle the belts at her hips and untie that half skirt she wore, throwing it to the floor.

                Up close and personal, the scars on her legs were an ugly white-red and raised from her skin. If he had to guess, Iron Bull would say they had come from teeth or claws, but now was not the time to ask. Instead, he traced them gently with an index finger and then kissed across each one, groaning as she shivered and bucked beneath him. He brought a hand to her crotch and rubbed her through the thick material of her shorts, grinning as she cried out again.

                Just as he was certain her patience was beginning to wear thin, Iron Bull pushed himself from the bed and knelt beside it. Gently, he unlaced her boots and pulled them from her feet; he took her thick stockings next, pausing to inhale deeply at the fur-rimmed tops. The fur there smelled sweet and feminine but tangy with sweat, reminding him of the way she smelled after a day in battle. Iron Bull breathed it in, savoring the scent, before tossing them away with the rest of her clothing. Teshrael had gone suspiciously quiet and still, jerking slightly as he slid both hands up the inside of her thighs and then to the lacing of her shorts. Iron Bull made quick work of them and the smallclothes beneath, then sighed and leaned back on his heels, soaking in the sight before him.

                She was bald, which was something he only occasionally encountered in his woman. Iron Bull stroked the velvety flesh of her vulva, smiling at the little mewls of pleasure she was beginning to make again. He parted her with his thumb, finding the little knot of nerves within and she gasped, gripping the blankets beneath her. “Bull,” she cried out as he toyed with her, rubbing his thumb in slow circles. Teshrael had been wet when he had disrobed her but now she was soaked, the juices wetting her blankets below her. His cock twitched, reminding him of the growing discomfort of his own clothing, but there was still more he needed to do before he fucked her.

                Iron Bull pulled his hand away and pulled her towards the edge of the bed so that he ass was just hanging off the side, reaching up to clamp a hand over her mouth. He lowered his face to the joining of her thighs and parted the lips there with his tongue, lapping at the ball of flesh. Teshrael’s hands came up to his covering her mouth and clawed at it, desperate to cry out, but he only held down tighter as he teased her, occasionally lowering himself to thrust his tongue inside her. Using his mouth, he brought her closer and closer to an edge until he felt her trembling grow and suddenly pulled back, standing before her.

                “Please, Bull, please,” she begged, writhing on the bed.

                “Patience, little Wilding,” he purred, his hands going to the lacings on his own pants. “The good part is about to begin.”

                He stripped without fanfar, so quickly that Teshrael had only a quick glimpse of his length before he had pushed her to the head of the bed and come over her again, staring down into her face intently. She met his gaze without pause, her eyes briefly flickering to his lips and wondering if she would be able to taste herself on them. Teshrael got her answer when Bull bent his head and seized her in a kiss, the rich taste of her own body invading her mouth. Teshrael gripped his horns as he pried her legs apart with one knee, lowering himself over her.

                Iron Bull pulled back, bracing himself over her. “I’ll start out slow,” he murmured, his voice thick with arousal and desire. “But I want to lose myself in you, little Wildling. I’m going to hurt you tonight.”

                The memory of the sharp but not unpleasant pain of his biting came to her and she nodded meekly. He smiled and continued: “If I hurt you, if you need to stop, if this is too much—tell me. ‘Katoh.’ Say that and I’ll stop, no questions asked, and we can return to safer territory.”

                Teshrael nodded again, more sure of herself this time. “And what if I hurt you?”

                A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “It’s the same for me.”

                With the safe word established, Bull reached between her thighs to prod at her wetness. Teshrael’s eyelids fluttered closed and he was satisfied with the lubrication there, satisfied that she was well-prepared and ready for this. Bull moved over her and reached between them, guiding the tip of dick against her cunt, stroking the opening there. Teshrael’s eyes flew open and he was surprised at the sudden fear there.

                “Bull,” she gasped, “this will hurt.”

                He blinked, confused. “Don’t worry, little Wildling, I’ll be gentle with you.”

                “No, this is going to hurt. I’ve never laid with a man before.”

                The Qunari froze, keeping their bodies touching but preventing himself from thrusting inside her. He looked into her face and saw earnest desire but wariness, the fear that he was surely going to rip her open. As ready as he had been to rut against her mercilessly, it was apparent that his previous plans were probably too much for tonight. Iron Bull frowned, considering his options, and then kissed her softly. “Do you want this?” he whispered against her lips, fully prepared for her refusal. Even though he was ready to go, Bull would accept whatever she decided. If she wasn’t ready, he would re-dress and leave her and see where things went in the future, but he would not force her.

                “Yes.” The response was almost immediate, her voice sure although a bit unsteady.

                Iron Bull kissed her again and positioned himself for the initial stroke, tension growing in his loins. “Then don’t worry about the pain tonight. I’ll be gentle. The games can come later, if you wish.”

                Teshrael locked her arms around his neck as he pressed the head to her entrance and Bull braced himself against the mattress, rolling his hips forward. She cried out and jerked beneath him, so he slowed the thrust and pushed against her tenderly. His deck met a barrier within and Iron Bull gritted his teeth, knowing he hadn’t yet reached her limits but that this was her virginity. “This is going to hurt,” he warned her and then thrust forward.

                She screamed as she tore, Bull kissing against her neck and murmuring gently into her skin. Tears stung her eyes but Teshrael did not tell him to stop, did not utter ‘Katoh’. Bull pulled back and then thrust into her again, his nostrils flaring at the sharp coppery smell of blood. Too late, he realized he should have warned her about the mess, but it was too late now. One of the women around here had to know how to get out the stain—or at least, would have an extra blanket to replace it. Bull thrust in and out slowly, never fully filling her, until he felt her heartbeat begin to slow and the nails she had dug into the back of his neck let up.

                Their eyes met and Bull kissed her, rolling his hips forward so far that they pressed to hers, his dick buried inside of her. He swallowed her cries and began to increase his past, taking faster and deeper strokes. Teshrael was so vocal beneath him, gasping and moaning as she rolled her own hips up to meet his, her hands slick on his flesh. Although Iron Bull thought he had prepared himself to last, the pressure of orgasm was building fast within him—due to, he was certain, the incredible tightness of her inner walls. He grunted as he rutted against her, breathing in the heady smell of sex and lust, brushing sweaty hair away from her forehead. Bull was struck by how intimate the moment was, a realization he did not often have when he was sharing his bed; with her beneath him, sex suddenly seemed important and valuable.

                The tension within him was building fast and he knew Teshrael’s orgasm was approaching as well, judging from the increasing tremors in her body. His pace became erratic and Bull rutted wildly against her, gasping and whispering her name. Teshrael met him with much the same and reached up to grab his face just as she reached climax. The little elf cried out and arched her back, the walls of her cunt seizing around him as her orgasm hit. The pressure pulled Bull to climax as well and he cried out her name as he came, burying himself deep within her. Teshrael closed her eyes, feeling heat spreading below her bellybutton, and she shivered as she came down from her own climax.

                It was all Bull could do not to fall over her, pin her to the bed. Instead, he rolled over so that he was facing her. Teshrael was still fighting to regain her breath, but she looked to him and a small smiled graced her lips. Bull felt his chest tighten and _fuck, she’s so beautiful._

Afterwards, they lay together, her head against his chest and an arm looped lazily over her shoulders. Iron Bull felt the relax of her shoulders and knew she would be asleep soon; he himself was exhausted and grateful she had made no mention of his departure. As he began to feel the tendrils of sleep, he shifted slightly so that her face was turned to his. “Do you regret anything?”

                Teshrael smiled lazily, her mismatched eyes glinting. “I’ve wanted this since the day in this snow,” she murmured, closing her eyes and nuzzling against him.

                Her words tightened his chest again, made him ache. Iron Bull was seized with the desire to stay her indefinitely: to protect her from the horrors of the outside world, to ensure she was never alone again. He knew the thought was foolish, but as long as they had tonight, he could give her what she so desperately needed.

                Teshrael went soft against him and a breath slid from her lips, indicating she was no longer awake. Bull closed his eyes and hugged her closer, allowing himself to relax. Within moments, he, too, was asleep.

                Outside of that room, the Inquisition and the war waged on; within, however, there was only hope and a new beginning.


End file.
